


And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop

by stilinskitrash



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, More tags to be added, Other, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, not a meet cute more like disaster meet awkward, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: “Astrid,” he breathed her name as if he were exhaling a sigh of relief, as if he were greeting an old friend he hadn’t seen in years, and not some stranger he’d met once.Her cheeks burned now, unable to take her wide eyes off his glowing face.[ title from the song by the same name by James Vincent McMorrow ]





	And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop

**Author's Note:**

> hey !! ive never written for the arcana before so bear with me as i try to attempt the characterizations lol  
> this is set PREGAME and will build up to it, so is how i imagine the MC meets asra based on loosely on what we know  
> ft my MC Astrid ! :)) not beta'd maybe i'll do that later so all mistakes are my own dumbass mistakes also it's only part 1 but ive forgotten how to list it as an ongoing series lmao

_the wind changed, the first day that you came through,_

_cut the corn, washed it clean._

i.

 

“Astrid, dear,” her aunt called, shrouded in purple smoke as she rearranged several crystals on the kitchen table, “would you have a look what all the noise is about outside? It sounds like there’s some kind of commotion.” 

Setting down the cup of tea she’d only just brewed, Astrid shrugged a shawl over her bare shoulders and out of the door. The aromas from the market had drifted their way to her doorstep, hitting her like a wave when she stepped out. As her aunt had said, various chatter could be heard from round the back of the shop, not particularly sounding like trouble, but worth investigating nonetheless. Just around the corner, someone with strikingly white hair was being crowded by Vesuvians and foreigners alike, all asking for something. 

“Me next, me next!” 

“I’ll have time to do everyone, just settle down.” the voice of the snowy haired stranger was like honey, soft and sweet and easy to listen to for hours, Astrid thought. He was telling fortunes, a deck of tarot cards splayed out in front of him where he sat cross legged on the ground. 

Astrid wasn’t sure what to do; this stranger was stealing their business, but on the other hand, she was enraptured. Their vibrant clothes set against the beiges and browns of the street were a stark and beautiful contrast. Silks and satins adorned their skin, which itself looked as smooth as caramel. The next person stepped up for their fortune, but no coins were exchanged. The stranger began the reading without asking for any fee at all. Perhaps they asked after?

Coughing awkwardly, Astrid beckoned the attention of the crowd.

“Sorry, but you can’t do that here.” her voice sounded smaller than she’d intended. The people turned to look at her, annoyed about the disruption. 

“Oh?” their expression was so honest, brows creased in concern beneath their mass of hair.

“Well, I came to ask you if you could not, anyway. Could you, like, do it elsewhere? And not behind our shop? It’s just… bad for business, you know?” she pointed to the building beside her, trying not to ramble with the intensity of the strangers stare on her.

“Ah.” his expression fell as he nodded. “I understand. Please don’t misread my intentions. I’m not trying to profit off of this, only practice my trade. I should’ve considered where I set up better…” 

The crowd began to dwindle, and the white haired stranger shuffled their deck back up, sliding it away into his satchel. Astrid stepped forward, full of wary and intrigue. 

“You’re well versed in tarot?”

He grinned, “I’d like to think so. Would you like a reading?” 

“I do my own, thanks.” 

His expression never faltered. “That’s great,” he smiled earnestly, “maybe you can give _me_ one."

Astrid chewed the inside of her mouth in an attempt to keep the corners of her lips quirking up. It was practically impossible to not catch his infectious smile. 

“It’ll cost you.” 

Even his laughter was infectious, as his head fell back in short, airy chuckles. 

“I’ve always admired your shop,” he admitted, “and have been in on the occasion to pick up a few essentials.” 

“You admire it so much you steal our business?” she knew she was being harsh--he’d already apologised, for gods sake--but sometimes the words just slipped out before she could rethink them. Astrid wasn’t one to relent on speaking her mind.

Pink tinged his cheeks, “I really am sorry about that. I never had any malicious intent.” (she found herself not hesitating to believe him.) “My name’s Asra, can we start over?” 

Asra. The way it rolled off of his tongue was almost melodic. She liked it. She wondered how it would sound on her own lips.

Pushing aside her doubts and inhibitions, Astrid nodded and offered him a smile. “Astrid.”

The silks of his clothes danced around him as he took a few steps closer, the purple of his eyes like that of an amethyst against the gold light of the dimming sun. “I hope our paths cross again, Astrid.” he drifted past her, his tarot cards neatly packed into a violet coloured box, and disappeared into the Vesuvian crowd.

From somewhere inside the shop, her aunt shouted for her, but Astrid found herself stuck to the ground until his opalescent head of hair was no longer visible.

 

ii.

 

The bustle of the masquerade was overwhelming; the aroma of warm, rich and spicy food wafted past her, bodies bumping into each other as they danced, wild, drunken laughter. Astrid’s dress hugged her too tightly, the bodice her aunt had insisted she wore pinched at her waist. She didn’t sit down for fear of breaking it. Truthfully, she just wanted to go home.

Countess Nadia was beautiful--no, ethereal. She commanded attention so effortlessly, weaving through the guests to make polite chat, pausing to admire the handiwork of her servants in the magnificent ballroom. Count Lucio however, had the sort of face that made you want to turn away; the sort of face that you know is watching you out of the corner of your eye, but you daren’t look. Never had two people fit so uncomfortably together.

“Why don’t you talk to someone? Make friends? Find yourself a partner?” Astrid’s aunt suggested with a wink, elbowing her niece's side. 

Astrid half smiled awkwardly, knowing her aunts intention were harmless, but reluctant to listen to her. What she really needed was some fresh air. 

“Actually, I might just go out to the gardens for a moment, aunty. I’ll be back in a bit, I promise.” she smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on her aunts cheek.

Sliding between the bodies, Astrid made for the patio doors. She passed some of the Countess’ sisters, all regal goddess-types, having the time of their lives. Astrid bowed her head out of habit, chewing on her lip as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. She should’ve worn the shawl her aunt had suggested, if only to cover her head from the crowd.

Absorbed in thought, she noticed too late that she’d set herself on a course to crash straight into another guest. Face planting their chest, she pushed off of them in a hurry, red seeping into her cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry--” 

“Astrid,” he breathed her name as if he were exhaling a sigh of relief, as if he were greeting an old friend he hadn’t seen in years, and not some stranger he’d met once. 

Her cheeks burned now, unable to take her wide eyes off his glowing face.

In the silence that settled, she noticed a flicker of confusion across Asra’s face--a moment of doubt. 

“It’s uh, it’s Asra?” he smiled awkwardly.

Astrid shook herself out of her daze and nodded (too vigorously), “no, no, yeah. Asra.” 

“Are you alright? You seemed like you were in a hurry.” 

“I, uh, was going…” was there glitter in his hair? Flecks sparkled as his mass of curls moved. He had the kind of hair that was begging you to run your hands through it. 

Asra chuckled, his grin widening as Astrid drifted off into space, knocked off balance by their reunion. “Do you need to sit down?”

“Uh, no.” her brow creased, eyes focusing on his masquerade attire. A pale purple shirt with bell sleeves, pants that looked like they were made of gold, an array of scarves in auburns and mauves and pinks. The necklaces around his neck held crystals and gemstones. Astrid made up her mind there and then that he could probably pull off most things. 

“Would you like to dance?” 

Her eyes snapped up to his.

His hand was extended to her, palm up, fingers adorned with rings. Her fingers twitched by her side, itching to accept. 

When her hand slipped into his, she felt cool and warm all at once, overwhelmed by a connection that lit some sort of spark inside her. Their magic was kin, and the look on Asra’s face suggested he felt it too. He pulled her gently towards him and closer into the centre of the ballroom, one hand resting on her waist and the other sat comfortably in her grip. 

She realised with delay that he felt so familiar. Asra smelt of rosemary and honey, or maybe it was lavender and a smouldering fire. Maybe it was sage and cinnamon. He smelt of home; of her aunts shop, in a way that had her instinctively leaning into him until her head tucked neatly under his chin. 

They weren’t in the Count and Countess’ ballroom anymore, Astrid was back in the shop. Asra was with her, mixing up some concoction as he muttered a nursery rhyme she didn’t recognise. Her aunt was sleeping in their worn out armchair. Tenderly, she snuck up behind him and wrapped both arms around his waist, pressing him flush against her. He hummed, reclining into her touch as she pressed up on her tiptoes to litter kisses on his exposed shoulders. The world was painted pink and gold.

Astrid lurched out of Asra’s grip as she reentered reality, her heart thundering in her chest. 

He stared at her, almost as dazed as she was. 

“What was--”

Asra’s wide eyes became unreadable.

She’d met him _twice_ now. Never had she spent time with him in the shop. Had it been a dream? Had she eaten something funny? 

Had Asra seen it too?

“Astrid--” he began, but her feet were working quicker than her heart. 

She took off, pushing through the guests, out of the patio doors, through the ridiculously manicured garden and towards the woodland. Her heels bled as her dress ripped on the undergrowth. She ran until her knees felt like buckling, her palms steadying against the bark of a tree. 

The moon cast eerie shadows, and Astrid shivered as the cool evening air finally hit her. Her breathing was ragged, her joints aching. She couldn’t explain what had freaked her out so much about what she’d seen. It couldn’t have been reality, yet it’d felt so real. So _right_.

She ripped off her shoes--heels, now destroyed from the forest floor--and attempted to get her bearings. It took her two hours to make it back to the shop, even with the help of her magic, and she immediately collapsed into the soft silks of her bed.

When she didn’t dream of Asra, she found herself waking up with a sad tug in her gut.

 

iii.

 

Rubbing her eyes of sleep, Astrid stumbled barefoot into the shop from her bedroom. She hadn’t heard any customers in, but as soon as she descended the last step, the voice of a stranger became clear. 

“Nevivon? I love it there. You should really visit Milova next time you’re out of Vesuvia, though. I can recommend some amazing food places that are just out of the way--”

“Oh, Astrid, you’re awake!” her aunt fawned, beckoning her over with one hand, the other grasping a bunch of herbs. “Come meet our guest.” 

Purple irises met hers earnestly. Astrid’s hands pulled at her unbrushed hair in panic. 

“Hello,” Asra smiled with uncertainty, clearly waiting to gauge her reaction.

“We’ve met, aunty.” she sighed, hugging the shawl she’d draped across her shoulders tighter. “A few times, actually.” Her eyes fell to the floor. 

“Oh, lovely! Asra was just telling me about his travels. He came in to buy some supplies and we just got talking. Say, Astrid, dear, what do you think of having another pair of hands around to help with the shop, hm?”

Asra coughed awkwardly, “oh, I wasn’t--” 

“Nonsense!” her aunt interjected, unphased by Astrid’s stunned expression and Asra’s taken aback look. “You’d be perfect. And Astrid’s always complaining about having to do everything herself when I’m away.” 

Astrid turned her back to Asra, facing her aunt privately. “Aunty, shouldn’t we interview a few more people first?” 

Her aunts mouth soured, “why, when we have a perfectly good candidate right here? And willing, I hope!” she turned to him expectantly, and his eyes flickered between hers and Astrid’s.

“I mean, I’d be honoured.” he nodded truthfully. Astrid’s chest fluttered, from anticipation of anxiety, she couldn’t tell. Every time his eyes flit to hers, she felt her cheeks heat. 

“It’s not amazing pay,” her aunt shrugged, “but we’ll keep you fed and there’s even a bed for you here if you need.”

Astrid’s jaw couldn’t drop any lower. Mere months ago, Asra was trading card readings behind the back of their shop. Now he was being offered a job there.

“No, I’d love it. This is an amazing place you’ve made for yourself. Being apart of it would be an honour.”

“Great!” her aunt cried, pulling Asra in for a hug that had him laughing in that airly beautiful way Astrid had heard before. “When would you like to start? Now? Tomorrow? Honey, would you show him the ropes? And prepare a room for him upstairs. I need to collect some things, but I’ll be back in an hour or so!”

In a slightly dumbfounded state, Astrid managed a nod. She’d only come down from her sleep a few moments ago, now she was being pushed in front of Asra and told to welcome him into her home. She was wearing sleeping clothes, she was a mess, only emphasised further by the escalation of events.

“Sorry, about all that.” Asra spoke, when her aunt had left for the morning. “I won’t accept the job if you don’t want me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” she challenged, hoping he wouldn’t hear the shake in her voice.

He offered her a small smile. “Because of the masquerade. I figured I scared you away.” 

“ _You_ scared _me_ away?” 

Asra went silent, turning away from her to pick up a jar full of dried flowers.

“Anyway, I’m sorry, Astrid. I didn’t mean to alarm you or take you off guard.” he set it back down in place of running his fingers along the satin of the curtain separating the main shop and the back kitchen. “Truth is, I was happy to see you that night. I hadn’t thought we’d ever meet again." 

“Me neither.” but he hadn’t slipped from her mind.

“I was glad that I did.” Astrid realised belatedly that he was _shy._ He kept his hands busy as he spoke to her, almost as if he were distracting himself. “Is that strange?” 

She shook her head. “No, I was just-- I was overwhelmed, that’s all. I haven’t met many other magicians. Least ones that have had _that_ effect on me when I’ve touched them.” her life mainly revolved around her aunts shop, ever since she moved to Vesuvia to work. Of course, some magicians came in, but most of their customers were everyday Vesuvians and travelers looking to pick up remedies or have their cards read.

“Ah,” he nodded, “I suppose not.” 

Astrid’s brow furrowed, “and that means?” 

Asra visibly hesitated, fingers fiddling with the hem of the curtain. “That’s not happened to me before, either. Your magic… it’s powerful, Astrid. And the way it attuned to mine wasn’t something I’ve experienced in the past.” 

“It was--” 

“Amazing.” he finished, unable to avoid eye contact any longer.

“A lot.” Astrid corrected. Desperate to move on, she gestured towards the stairs, “will you be staying with us whilst working here?” 

“Would you mind if I did?” 

She faltered, “I-- why would I?” _Because you both interest and scare me. Because there’s something about you that’s irresistible. Because I’m not sure if I trust myself around you._  

Asra smiled gently, “no reason. I’d be more than happy to stay here if you’ll have me.” 

Nodding curtly, Astrid beckoned him up the staircase, “then the bed is all yours. I’ll show you up.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow my writing twitter [cvbeswaters](https://twitter.com/cvbeswaters) or on tumblr at [stacygwehn](https://stacygwehn.tumblr.com)


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